Page 18 of Wild, Wild Cowboy

It felt different, though, the way he did it. It felt like something I needed.

And it was back, that hot, slick feeling.

It could happen this time. It could actually happen.

I pushed the thought down. I didn’t want to hope for it. That would only end in frustration, and right now I just wanted to feel good.

And Ididfeel good. I felt so amazingly good.

With my arms immobilized, all I could do was push my hips to his. So I did that, grinding my body against the hard bulge below his belt. Again and again, desperate and frenzied.

He tore his mouth from mine, panting. “This is going to go fast now. You ready?”

“Ye—” was all I managed to get out before he had my T-shirt off over my head and my skirt pooled at my ankles. I was leftstanding there in my white cotton underwear and bra, but only for a moment while he shucked his jeans and that ludicrous belt, and then he wrapped those strong arms around my waist and took us to the sofa.

It amazed me how easily he maneuvered both of our bodies right where he wanted us. He reclined lengthwise on the couch with me on his lap, my thighs straddling his hips. I could feel his cock, hot and hard, through the thin, damp cotton of my underwear. Experimentally, I rolled my hips in a slow circle. I liked it so much that I did it again.

“Christ!” he bit out, jackknifing upwards, his fingers digging into my hips.

I whimpered and he kissed me again, hard, then and unclasped my bra behind my back. Despite his promise that this was going to go fast, he leaned back and took a long look at me. My heart was beating a thousand times a minute, my body starting to shake, but I sat there on his lap and let him look. No one had ever looked at me like that, like I was the answer to everything.

And then he smiled, took my glasses, and gently set them aside. “I don’t want them to get broken.”

“All right,” I said, only slightly miffed because dang it, I wanted to see him.

He squeezed my hips, moving his hands leisurely up my body to cup my breasts, and I thought I might die from anticipation. My nipples ached, my clit ached, every part of me desperate for a touch of his rough, callused fingers.

His thumbs skimmed the undersides of my breasts and I gasped, my breath coming in short, shallow bursts. He was so close to where I wanted but he kept deliberately taunting me, circling my nipples with slow, lazy touches. I was going to die…or murder him.

And then suddenly his mouth was there, his tongue, his teeth, the hot, sweet suction of his mouth. I cried out and dug my fingers into his scalp, holding him there like I thought he might change his mind. My internal muscles clenched in response.It might actually happen.

He growled, wrapping an arm around my waist, his mouth still on my breast, and flipped us over so I was underneath him, keeping one hand under the base of my skull to protect me from banging my head on the armrest, then hooked a finger under the waistband of my underwear and tugged them down my legs to my ankles. I kicked them off my feet, sending them god knew where.

“Zack,” I whispered, because he was looking at me again, and I needed him to stop looking and start touching. I grabbed his hand and brought it where I wanted. I had never been shy about directing. My problem had always been that my directions never got me where I wanted to go.That’s okay, I reminded myself.An orgasm doesn’t have to be the goal.

His breath hissed as he dragged one finger through my folds. “Fuck, you’re wet.”

I rocked up against his hand. It felt good. It felt so damn good that I almost dared to hope again. He pressed the heel of his palm against my clit and worked his finger in and out of my body, first one and then two.

He shifted slightly to fish his wallet from the pocket of his jeans on the floor and pulled out a condom. I watched through half-shut eyes as he sat on his heels to roll it over his length and swallowed hard. He was big enough to make me a little nervous.

Like he was reading my mind, he said, “I promise I’ll fit. I haven’t ripped anyone in half yet.”

I nodded, sucking my bottom lip between my teeth.

He pushed my thighs wider and positioned himself at my entrance. He pressed forward slowly, his eyes focused on myface. My vision blurred at the edges and I gripped his biceps. He was thick and perfect and it felt so good it bordered on pain. He paused for a moment, half inside me, then withdrew, and pushed forward again. He made it further this time before pulling back and sliding in a third time. And this time he didn’t stop, not even when my breath hollowed out, not until he filled me completely.

“I need you to breath, sweetheart,” he said, his voice tense, his body rigid.

I breathed out and tried to relax around the feeling of being stuffed full of him.

He moved. Faster this time, and with much less gentleness. And then he leaned back, hooked one elbow under my knee, and widened the angle as he stroked into me again and again, ruthless and desperate.

The room closed in around us until all I could see was him, me, us. My hands on his shoulders. The cords in his neck standing out with the effort to keep himself in check. His furrowed brow, the sweep of dark eyelashes against his cheek as he looked down at where he disappeared inside me.

Pleasure built, pushing me toward the precipice.Oh, god, it might actually happen.

And then suddenly his blue eyes were on mine. Looking right into my face, right into my soul.Danger. I faltered, there on the ledge.No. I can’t?—

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